Let’s Get in the Arena

Knowing about the game isn’t the same as playing it

There’s a difference between learning about something and actually doing it.

It’s been a year since I put in my notice at my corporate job, and that difference has reshaped how I move.

I kept all of my texts from my friends because it was such a big moment.

The internet is full of reporting on culture, power, and access, including who was in the room, what it looked like, what was said, and why it mattered. At its best, this kind of writing is generous. It exposes us to people and ideas we might never encounter otherwise. It helps us see what’s possible beyond our immediate worlds. At its worst, it keeps us obsessed with who is doing what instead of doing anything ourselves.

When we have an interest in an industry, a community, or an idea, reporting can only take us so far. It’s inherently partial. It can’t fully capture the relationships, the friction, or the reality of how things actually work once you’re inside.

Consumption alone won’t satisfy our curiosity. We need to step toward it and engage.

This came up again recently while my friend Tre’ and I were co-working. We were talking about the difference between people who report on industries and people who shape them in real time. He used a basketball analogy: you can sit courtside for every game, but that doesn’t mean you can teach someone how to play basketball.

The relationship can be symbiotic, but the roles aren’t the same.

The people shaping the game aren’t just watching it closely. They’re practicing. Coaches, trainers, and GMs are in the room beyond the spectacle, contributing to what actually happens day to day.

Both roles matter, but one observes what happened, and the other makes it happen. The tension arises when we confuse translation with experience.

So much of culture right now rewards being “in the know,” knowing what’s cool, who’s doing what, and which rooms matter. But the people being reported on aren’t just informed. They’re at work, generating ideas and putting in the reps.

We don’t become real players through proximity alone. We become players by contributing and practicing, by staying in it long enough for the work to compound. Skill is built through repetition, not observation.

That’s why practice matters so much. It humbles you. It teaches you what can’t be learned from the sidelines. I’ll admit, I struggle with this. I want to fast-forward to the part where I’m making people’s favorite shit, as Issa Rae said recently on Aspire with Emma Grede. But I still show up. I’m doing my best to fall in love with the process.

It goes without saying that I’m far less interested in criticism from people who aren’t in the arena.

The more time we spend creating, the less we cling to access for its own sake. When curiosity is real, we want to understand something through conversation, collaboration, or by trying it ourselves.

Reporting helps us locate the players. Practice is what makes us one.

And once we step into some of these rooms, the allure of prestige starts to fade. Alignment comes into focus. Who’s actually doing the work? Who do we want to build with over time?

This is how we move out of comparison and into authorship and from authorship into real relationships. It’s how what we want to build starts to feel tangible instead of theoretical.

This isn’t a rejection of reporting. It’s a reminder not to stop there.

We can let it spark curiosity, but then take a step toward it. Send the brave email. Add the person on LinkedIn.

Most rooms and most people are far more permeable than they appear, especially when we’re actually doing the work.

As we build, we can worry less about being in the know and focus more on being in practice.

(We can still read, obviously.)

It’s a long game.

There’s no reason to watch it from the sidelines.

I’m glad you’re here. I write weekly, talk things through on Hi! I’m Here, and offer one-on-one values sessions for people navigating change. You can find me on Instagram or TikTok, or book time with me here.